


i got your emotions tattooed on my sleeve

by dhils



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, feat. nico’s good boy mentality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 11:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16428437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/pseuds/dhils
Summary: Nico’s stomach drops when his eyes drag over the words, thepermanent tattoohe’ll have on his body for the rest of his life.(or, the one where your soulmate’s first impression of you is written on your skin.)





	i got your emotions tattooed on my sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> imagine being as pure and sweet as nico hischier, im crying yo
> 
> title from empty by kevin abstract

There’s no such thing as a second chance at a first impression and that’s just the way it‘s always been.

Even if soulmates were nothing but a children’s fairytale, first impressions are the foundation relationships are built on. There are very few instances where they don’t matter, since usually they define the rest of your future with whoever it might be. 

So, because Nico was raised right, he watches himself when meeting new people, always smiling and shaking their hands, greeting them with polite words. Even if it’s on the ice, he’ll happily knock shoulders with another player and hype him up for a game, joking around before puck drop. 

Nico likes to think his first impression record is crystal clear, even if every time he checks his skin, there’s no ink to be spotted, no first thoughts or opinions. And Nico isn’t sure when exactly he’s going to meet his soulmate, nobody is, but the polite act gets to be a little much at time. Everyone’s patience wears thin, and Nico really is only human.

Not finding your soulmate is one of the shittiest feelings in the world.

It’s like, all the guys in Halifax knew their soulmates, wearing wrist guards, or tucking words under socks, Nico’s even seen some of them covering the ink up with bandages. And Nico gets that, not everyone grew up like him, not everyone was taught manners before the alphabet, but there’s still that edge of envy that bites at his nerves. He wouldn’t cover his mark up, he’d wear it with pride, having actually _met_ his soulmate.

But Nico doesn’t get that luxury. Not yet, at least.

 

 

Nico meets a lot of people when the commotion over the 2017 draft starts bubbling up, and he meets even _more_ people when he gets classified as a Top Prospect. It’s a little overwhelming. Or, like, a lot overwhelming, and making a good first impression gets shoved into the back of his head at times, but he still tries to come off as polite, to do his mom proud. 

He knows she watches his interviews, especially from the calls he’ll get every now and then, telling him to stand straighter and talk more clearly. Nico will laugh it off, but it’s not as if she treats it like a laughing matter, too.

Heeding his mother’s advice has always worked for him, so he decides to comply without complaining, especially because this is determining the _permanent_ tattoo that’ll be etched into his skin. The rest of his life determined by a single thought, and it makes Nico’s heart glow with excitement.

The fall months pass in a flurry of hockey games and interviews, and WJC comes and goes a little too quickly, but Nico tries not to dwell on it for the sake of maintaining a calm public image. It doesn’t feel great, but it is what it is. 

And then— _then_ comes the Top Prospects game, what Nico’s been waiting for for weeks, and he’s finally in Quebec City, heading down for more PR, more interviews, more publicity shit, but on the bright side, the captains get flown in a day earlier. Dealing with the other guys is a mountain he can cross when it comes to it, for now, this should be easy enough not to fuck up.

He’s supposed to be meeting this Nolan Patrick kid, apparently the top contender for first overall, and Nico’s a little psyched out because that’s _crazy_ , but he also knows next to nothing about the guy. He’s been hearing about him lots, don’t get him wrong. Every other question that hits him is, in some way, about Nolan, and for someone he doesn’t know all that well, Nico answers a lot of questions about him.

His english isn’t the worst, but trying to reword an answer 15 different ways after answering the _same_ question over, and over, and over gets difficult.

 

 

Nico prides himself on being able to keep his sanity in check up until he gets dismissed to his hotel room for a few hours before more shit gets flung at him. He’s not sure if he’s done this much PR shit in his life, but hey, it means he’s just one step closer to the Show.

When he shuts the door behind him, he blows out a little exhale. The lady who’d given him his keys had told him that he’s rooming with Nolan Patrick, which might just be the event planners behind the scenes fucking with them. But Nico is too tired to care, he just has to pull through this one last time. 

“Hey,” he says tiredly, giving a weak wave in the direction of the scattered colours in his peripheral vision. He pulls a pair of sweats and a shirt out of his suitcase and when he glances over at the guy lounging on one of the beds—Nolan Patrick, apparently—he’s got this sweet smile on his face. It makes him look more human, nothing at all like how the media had painted him out to be. To Nico, at least. 

“What’s up, man?” Nolan asks, his eyes no longer focused on the TV, regardless of whatever he’s got playing. 

“Nothing, I’m burnt out,” Nico says mildly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He thinks he might pass out the second he hits the bed. He feels a pinch right over his ribs and decides to ignore it.

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” Nolan tells him, and there’s this lilt to his voice so Nico can just _hear_ his smile. 

He’s not sure about whether or not he’s flushed, but Nolan had been from the moment they met eyes, so he’s got point for that at least. Even if Nolan’s rosy cheeks could quite easily be the most endearing thing Nico’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah? Hope so,” Nico mumbles. “I’m gonna shower, is that cool?”

Nolan flashes him a lazy thumbs up and that’s the last Nico sees of him before he shuts the bathroom door behind him.

Except for the part where it’s not, because when Nico pulls his shirt off to drop it down on the counter, his eyes immediately fly to the shiny black ink on his ribs. It’s all pretty and looping letters, looking as though it might smudge if Nico touches it, and he swears he can feel so, so many words of excitement scratching at the back of his throat.

Nico thinks he might know precisely when they appeared, when he was still making useless small talk with Nolan, but he doubts that matters. It could’ve just been a coincidence for them to show up then, or maybe it’d showed up earlier and the unfamiliar stinging only just made its grand entrance. Or maybe—maybe, there are just so many possibilities. 

There aren’t exactly heaps of instances where 1 and 2, presumably, are each other’s soulmates. In fact, there aren’t _any_ instances, not that Nico knows of at least. And this—it wouldn’t make any sense.

When he presses the tip of his index finger to the ink, Nico’s admittedly surprised when it doesn’t come away with residue lingering over his digit. He tries to smudge it next with no luck at all, and a relieved breath leaves his lips. Nico can’t exactly read the swirling letters through the mirror, all inverted and mocking, so he tries to catch a glimpse by awkwardly bending. 

Nico’s stomach drops when his eyes drag over the words, the tattoo he’ll have on his body for the rest of his life and it reads, _Fuck, I’d drop to my knees for him in a second_.

Nico’s breath comes out a little stuttered and he thinks he might’ve made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry, ultimately deciding to run the shower before he makes any other embarrassing noises. 

He’s not even sure whether or not that’s considered a good first impression and—was that Nolan Patrick? Nico can feel his face blaze and he sheds off the rest of his clothes to hop in the shower.

He doesn’t always turn the temperature down as cold as he can get it without giving himself frostbite, but he decides it’s a good idea for right now. Considering the way that shiver of warmth in the bottom of his spine definitely isn’t helping anything. 

Nico still decides to pull a shirt on over it when he gets out, snug in his sweatpants with wet hair soaking droplets into the fabric of his clothes. He dries it with a fluffy towel before stepping out, feeling even more flustered to be around Nolan with the tattoo he has stamped onto his ribs, whether or not it was his doing. 

“Hey,” Nolan greets him, nothing but patience in the way it comes out

“Hi” he says quietly, letting himself slump down gracelessly on the empty bed. The TV is playing a little louder, and Nico can’t actually recognize the show, but he decides watching it is probably a better idea than talking about the mark anyways. 

How would he even bring that up? _Hey, so, like, about getting on your knees—_ , Nico smiles to him and stares up at the ceiling. That’s a terrible idea, he’s definitely not doing that. 

He thinks he can feel Nolan’s gaze on him, but he’s too afraid of meeting eyes to check. It takes a while, having to hype himself up, but when he looks over, Nolan’s back to watching the TV. Nico might lose his mind if he doesn’t do anything.

“Um,” he says, and when Nolan looks at him, he feels a little overwhelmed. All that attention directed towards him, it’s too much power. “Y’know what’s funny?”

Nolan’s already smiling, so Nico figures he’s an easy crowd. He appreciates that. It’s comforting. “What?”

“I think my soul mark just came in and it’s just—it’s the stupidest thing in the world.”

Nolan chuckles, it sounds like it comes easy. “Yeah? You wanna play show and tell?”

Nico compulsively runs a hand through the side of his hair, sitting up to cross his legs underneath him. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“Obviously, you don’t have to, but.” He shrugs. “Mine came in, too—today. It’s. Nice.”

Nico smiles, and with a breath to calm his nerves, he decides this is something he’s been waiting his entire fucking life for. He’s just not sure if he’ll be able to show it off without bursting into laughter. 

“Okay, wait,” he says quickly, and tries not to watch Nolan’s eyes when he pulls his shirt up. It takes a second before Nolan starts sniggering, and Nico takes that as an invitation to drop his shirt. 

“Oh my god,” he says between laughs, and Nico gets up just to cross the gap between them and shove Nolan’s shoulder. He ends up sitting on his bed, feeling a little buzz of anticipation building in his gut. 

“Shut up,” Nico says. “Yeah, it’s _that_ , but I love it.” That only makes Nolan laugh harder, and Nico makes an unimpressed face at him, even if he’s smiling by the time Nolan’s trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know man, that’s pretty iconic. For the rest of your life, too?” Nolan’s grin turns shit-eating. “Love that.”

“This is bullying.” 

“Fuck off,” Nolan says, his tone playful. Maybe because he’s still light-headed. “Anyways—“ He pulls the sleeve of his hoodie up, and right along the side of his forearm are the words _I like his smile_. 

Which is—

“Oh.” Nico can feel the tips of his ears burning up, especially when he catches Nolan’s eyes and he’s looking at him a little expectantly. “Can I, uh, can I touch it?” He’s not too sure what compels him to say it, but it’s like there’s a wall between them that Nico just has to get rid of.

Nolan nods his head, everything settling into something calmer, more serene. Nico reaches out and tentatively runs his finger over the scrawl, watching each individual letter appear under his hand. He doesn’t mean to let it linger.

“Nolan—I,” he cuts himself off, mostly because he’s unsure of what to say. All the wrong words balancing on the tip of his tongue, just threatening to tumble off. But he keeps his lips pressed together. The loudest sound in his ears is of the TV, coloured with rapid english and laugh tracks. Nico zoned it out a long time ago.

“I know,” Nolan says, his eyes focused on Nico’s fingers, like he’s looking for a smudge of ink. “You—I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah.” Nico reaches out to touch Nolan’s arm again, so fascinated by the ink engrained into his skin. He holds it in his lap, reading the words over and over. “That works.”

“It does.” Nolan’s laugh is a little breathier when it comes out. “Sorry about,” he waves his hand by means of communicating _the tattoo_ , maybe. Nico doesn’t even care anymore. It’s not the words that matter to him, really. It’s more of how they came to be. 

“No, I like it,” he says quietly, almost nervous to admit it. As if Nolan would judge him. “Are we—is it okay if I kiss you?”

Nolan smiles and leans in closer, and Nico isn’t expecting the kiss to the corner of his mouth before he connects their lips, but the feeling of it lingers even after Nolan snakes a hand under his shirt, thumb rolling over the words on his ribs. And Nico feels a little like his skin sets on fire when Nolan touches it, and he likes that.

It’s beautiful and slow and Nico thinks he wants to be here forever, caught up in the soft touches from Nolan. 

They spend enough time together for Nico to lose the feeling in his lips, and when they finally pull apart, all either of them get out is a chuckle, still hovering close together. 

“I might not get over this, like, ever,” Nolan says, and he leans in to kiss Nico’s cheek, and then his temple. Nico hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto his arm. 

“Yeah. Same here,” he tells him, smiling down at where Nolan’s hand disappears under his shirt, the bumps of his knuckles against the fabric. “Not like it’s something I _want_ to get over.” 

“You’re right,” Nolan says, punctuating it with the lightest scratch of teeth at Nico’s jaw. “I mean, you’ve got one hell of a tattoo, so.”

“Hey, I told you, I love it,” he says stubbornly. “It’s currently my second favourite thing.” 

“What’s the first?” 

Nico smiles. “Take a guess.” And when he leans in to kiss him again, they’re both smiling.


End file.
